“It’s impossible to say,” I said as sweetly as I could. “Until I know what he is making himself available for.”
“I see.” The smile was still there, but the mirth had gone. “Then you may tell him I was sent by a mutual friend.”
“The captain doesn’t have any friends here.”
“On the contrary, he has many friends! He has not yet met them all, but I am eager to make the introduction. I’ve heard so much about him.” His voice was deceptively light. “Quite extraordinary, the stories of his exploits. Almost . . . unbelievable.”
The skin behind my ears prickled. What did he know? “Well,” I said, trying to match his tone. “I wouldn’t make a habit of believing every bit of gossip I heard.”
“Oh, I don’t.” He let his eyes rove over the Temptation: the carved keel, the brazen figurehead. He nodded toward the mermaid. “The things she must have seen, eh?”
I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. “If there’s nothing more—”
“Just one thing. Please do tell him we will reward him generously for his help.”
“We don’t need money.” I turned to leave.
“I’m not offering money.”
I paused with one foot on the gangplank, unwilling to ask. He told me anyway.
“We have in our possession a treasure map.” He steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “And the treasure is one only your captain can claim, because he’s the one who lost it, back in 1868.”
Damn everything.
A mutual friend. I gritted my teeth. She’d said it, even before I’d asked her for maps—a tall stranger and a long journey—but this was not Adelphi and she was no oracle. It wasn’t hard to see the future when you were the one planning it. She must have been ready for Slate’s return, as patient as a spider on a web. But I was the one caught, unable to escape the threads of my past.
Then I had an odd thought, a ray of hope. “The map. Is the drafter’s name Sutfin?”
“No,” he said, with a smile that was practically a twinkle. “It is not.”
I felt like Ulysses myself then, between Scylla and Charybdis, the beast and the abyss. I closed my eyes, struggling for composure. “Come back tomorrow.”
The man took his leave, strolling merrily away, while I climbed the gangplank with heavy steps. Bee was shaking her head. “Never trust a man with a beard. They’re always hiding something.”
“And not just his chin. He wouldn’t tell me his name or his business.”
Bee rolled her shoulders. “Might be best if he never does.”
I grimaced. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to give up easily.”
“I could take us out to sea,” she offered. “The gentleman won’t be swimming in that suit.”
“And the next time we’re in New York, the map will be waiting for us at Christie’s for twice the price. I can’t escape it, Bee.” I started toward the captain’s door.
“Then fight it.”
“That doesn’t work.”
“That’s because you’ve been fighting with him.” She sighed, the air rasping in her throat. “You don’t have to help him. You’re not responsible. It isn’t your fault your mother’s gone.”
My breath hitched in my throat, and she reached out with unusual tenderness and put her thumb on my chin. Then she clapped my shoulder.
“But if you still want to escape, take the afternoon. Waking him up, it’s not going to be pretty.”
I bit my lip. “I . . . I took leave this morning.”
“I won’t tell on you.” Bee walked over to my hammock and kicked the lowermost curve. “Kashmir!”
He flipped himself out of the sling and onto his feet, his eyes wide and his hair mussed. “What?”
“Budge yourself and take this girl ashore. She’s getting underfoot.”
He blinked twice and then saluted. “Aye, captain!” With little effort, he swept me up and hoisted me over his shoulder, knocking the air out of me. “Shore leave!” he shouted as he trotted down the gangplank.
“Kashmir!”
“Ah!” he said as I pounded him on the back. “That was my kidney!”
“Put me down,” I said breathlessly, “or I’ll take out the other one!”
“You should know, amira,” he said, emphasizing the Persian accent he often kept hidden. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists!”
I smacked his rear as he trotted ashore. On deck, Bee was shouting. “Ayen, pull back his blankets. Rotgut! Start some broth! And get a bucket of cold water!” I thought again of Ulysses, and of the sirens. Would Bee tie the captain to the mast until he was himself?
Kashmir set me down on the dock and put his hands on the small of his back. “I know one of our options on leave is brawling, but usually that’s later, after the drinking and the gambling.”
I straightened my skirt, staring toward the ship, wanting to run back, wanting to run away. “Do you think they’ll be all right?”
“I have an idea,” Kashmir said, pulling at my sleeve. “Let’s find you some new clothes.”
“You can’t distract me with shopping,” I said. “I hate shopping.”